


Maybe Baby (I'll Have You)

by musette22



Series: Tumblr Follower Celebration [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Sharon Carter Is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, if you're looking for feelgood clichés look no further
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musette22/pseuds/musette22
Summary: It’s Monday morning, and Bucky is just preparing a large mocha, extra whip for one of the many exchange students that have been finding their way into his shop lately, when the little bell above the door rings and a large man carrying a tiny baby in a papoose walks in.





	Maybe Baby (I'll Have You)

**Author's Note:**

> The last fic in my 700 followers celebration! This one is a little different though, also more of a standalone oneshot - the Coffee Shop AU nobody asked for or needed, but I still had a lot of fun writing! Thanks for following, reading, commenting or generally just being lovely people, I appreciate you all so much ❤️❤️

It’s Monday morning, and Bucky is just preparing a large mocha, extra whip for one of the many exchange students that have been finding their way into his shop lately, when the little bell above the door rings and a large man carrying a tiny baby in a papoose walks in.

It’s not a sight Bucky sees every day - although he thinks it should be, and if he hears one more sexist asshole say it’s unseemly for a man to carry his own child in what is quite frankly the most natural way possible, he is going to get all Bruce Lee on them. The way this man is carrying his child is not the only reason why the pair draws his attention, though. There is also the fact that the tiny baby is screaming at the top of its tiny lungs. Or, Bucky supposes, it’s not screaming so much as crying, but _boy,_ is it loud.

Or girl, actually. It’s hard to tell at this age, and especially from this distance.

The eardrum-piercing wailing instantly draws every pair of eyes in the place to the doorway, most of the stares less than friendly. Although it’s not exactly Bucky’s favorite sound in the world either, he does feel instantly bad for the dad. The guy looks harried, cheeks ruddy from the crisp autumn air and probably also from embarrassment at having people glare daggers at his crying child. His floppy blond hair is messy and tangled as if he’s been running his hands through it, and he's trying to shush the baby, rocking it against his chest (his _massive _chest, Bucky’s brain supplies helpfully) in an attempt to get it to settle. And by some miracle, after a minute or so, it does. The sharp cries die down into softer hiccups and eventually fade into sleepy sniffles, and the whole shop breathes a collective sigh of relief.

The father, a man of probably around thirty dressed in worn-looking blue jeans and a navy blue sweater, looks so relieved, in fact, that Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he sank to the floor right there and then to thank whatever divine power he may or may not believe in. As it is, he just takes a deep, steadying breath and brushes his hair off his forehead, careful not to jostle the child lest it sets off another tantrum. It’s only then that he really looks around him, taking in the interior of the coffee shop – the hodgepodge of modern furniture and antiques and the array of houseplants dotted around the room – until his eyes land on Bucky behind the counter.

Call him melodramatic, but the moment their gazes meet, Bucky could _swear _he hears angels sing.

The man’s eyes are a bright, sky blue, and his face, now that it’s not wearing a look of anguish, is so _pretty _(not a word Bucky would usually associate with a man his size) that it literally takes Bucky’s breath away for a second.

The guy is _a lot_. He is also walking towards Bucky.

Bucky snaps to attention, grabbing a cloth and hastily busying himself with cleaning the nozzle of the milk steamer, trying to look like he actually works here and isn’t just some rando staring creepily at every hot guy who walks through the door.

“Hi,” the man greets him in a soft, deep voice that instantly causes a pleasant sort of tingle to run down Bucky’s spine.

“Hi,” Bucky replies quietly, keeping his voice down so he won’t disturb the sleeping baby. “What can I get you?”

The guy blinks, as if he hadn’t actually considered what kind of beverage he might want yet, then looks up at the board hanging on the wall behind Bucky.

“Um,” he hesitates, “could I just have a - a large coffee? Like something, uh… extra strong?”

Bucky doesn’t quite chuckle at the sheepish look on the man’s face, but it’s a near thing. He knows the type by now; guys who can’t make sense of the complicated coffee terminology that has become so commonplace for most people these days, and that just want a plain ol’ cup of joe. They tend to get either irritated when they can’t find that on the menu or they become embarrassed and start to stutter. Bucky is glad the guy seems to be the latter type.

“One large, extra strong coffee, gotcha,” Bucky says, smiling, and the man’s answering smile is grateful. Bucky plucks the marker from where he’s stashed it in his messy bun and asks, “What name can I put on it?”

It’s not strictly necessary, since there is currently only one customer at the counter, but Bucky just wants a name to put to the face, alright? Sue him.

Fortunately, the guy doesn’t seem to think it’s anything out of the ordinary. “Steve,” he recites dutifully.

“Steve,” Bucky repeats, scribbling the name down on the cup. “Steven with ph?” It’s a gamble, because for all he knows Steve isn’t as familiar with meme culture as Bucky (sadly) is and he’ll just get a funny look in return, but from the way Steve laughs, it seems he got the joke. Also, his smile is a thing of beauty and Bucky would gladly make a fool of himself over and over again to see it.

“Nah, just a boring ‘v’, I’m afraid.”

“Shame,” Bucky says as he rings him up, flashing Steve a grin before turning his back to him. Ugh, he knows he shouldn’t flirt with customers, but he doesn't think he can help himself with this guy. All the stuttering and the pretty just brings out the worst in him.

“Oh, um,” Steve says, eyeing the takeaway cup that Bucky presents him with, before shooting him an apologetic look. “Is it okay if I sit here for a moment, just until I finish my coffee? Catch my breath, you know?” 

“Oh yeah, of course,” Bucky says. “No problem at all. Sorry, do you want me to put it in a mug for you?” He’d just assumed Steve would want his coffee to go, what with the sleeping baby in a loud coffee shop and all, but if he wants to stick around for a bit, even better.

Steve shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. This is fine.”

“Sure?”

“Definitely,” Steve smiles, bringing the cup up to his face and sniffing it. His face instantly takes on an expression of bliss and he lets out a soft moan, and Bucky has to bite down on his lip to smother a whimper of his own. Fuck, the effect this guy is having on him is _insane_.

“Long night?” he manages to ask, voice coming out a little rougher than usual.

Steve treats him to another one of his self-conscious smiles, his lips (_luscious_ lips – yes, thank you brain) pressed firmly together and the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yeah,” he says. “Stayed up late working, and then this little one has been throwing a tantrum since the moment she opened her eyes this morning. We think she’s teething.”

Bucky firmly tamps down the irrational feeling of disappointment at the mention of a ‘we.’ Of course a guy like Steve would be taken. He’s standing here with his baby asleep on his chest, for fuck’s sake. Steve may not be wearing a wedding ring, but babies don’t just materialize out of thin air.

Get a hold of yourself, Barnes. 

Instead of pouting like he kind of wants to, Bucky just hums sympathetically, because even though he doesn’t know a lot about babies, he can imagine teething isn’t exactly a fun process. He takes a moment to actually look at the child then, since he’d been too distracted by Steve’s everything before to really pay attention to her.

The little girl is a red-faced from crying, but still cute as a button, bearing a clear family resemblance to Steve with her fine, blond hair.

“What’s her name?”

“Izzy,” Steve replies, his voice all soft and affectionate. “Well, Isabella, but Izzy for short.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Bucky says, very much enjoying the way the words make Steve glow with pride. It’s clear that he’s a smitten dad, and it’s equally clear that Bucky is a little bit smitten with the smitten dad.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the, uh… screaming, earlier,” Steve says, wincing a little as his blush deepens. How a man of his size can be so adorable is beyond Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says easily. “She’s a baby, it happens. At least she seems pretty fast asleep now.”

Steve frowns, watching the sleeping bundle of human in his arms with a puzzled expression. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t really understand, to be honest. It’s a lot louder here than it was at home.”

“Well, whatever it is, better enjoy it while you can.” He raps his fingers on the counter. “Tell you what, you take as long as you need and if you need a refill, just give me a sign. On the house,” he adds with a wink.

Steve’s eyes widen immediately. “Oh no,” he sputters, “thank you, but I couldn’t possibly – I mean, I can pay – It’s, I have–”

“It’s not a problem, Steve,” Bucky interrupts, chuckling. “It’s just filter coffee.”

The doorbell jangles again. Bucky’s eyes flicker towards the door as a new customer enters the shop and starts making her way to the counter.

“Okay, how about this,” Bucky says quickly, “you go take a seat, make yourself at home, and we’ll see about that refill, alright?”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Alright,” he concedes, giving a little shake of his head. “Thank you…” He glances at the name tag pinned to Bucky’s apron, “…Bucky.”

While Bucky is still savoring the way his name sounds on Steve’s tongue, Steve turns around and scans the room, eventually deciding on the comfy armchair by the window that’s just been vacated. Bucky silently approves of his choice, seeing as that seat is in his direct line of sight, which means he can watch Steve all he wants without it coming across as creeping.

Over the next half hour or so, Bucky watches Steve slowly – _very_ slowly – drink his coffee while he reads a newspaper that someone left behind. He turns the pages very slowly too, careful not to shake the baby – Izzy – still huddled up close, but it seems like she really is out cold for the time being. Not even some girl’s extremely loud and obnoxious ringtone or the booming voice of the businessman sat to their right seems to be able to wake her.

At some point, Natasha appears from the back of the shop where she’d been preparing sandwiches for the afternoon rush of lunchers, and maybe catches Bucky ogling. Just a little. It’s possible that he’s been standing there, absentmindedly stroking up and down the tattoos on his left arm, for some minutes now.

Nat brings him out of his reverie with a pointy elbow to the side, giving him a knowing look.

“What?” Bucky shrugs, pulling his most innocent face, and Nat just rolls her eyes and goes back to arranging muffins in the display. To her credit, she doesn’t call him out on it when he drops a stack of napkins on the floor because he was too preoccupied to actually place them on the counter instead of next to it. She just snorts in that annoyingly omniscient way of hers that lets him know she knows_ exactly_ why Bucky is so distracted.

When Steve’s endless sipping finally ceases, Bucky seizes his chance. He grabs the coffee pot, casually sauntering over to the window. Steve looks up when he approaches, but before he even has time to put up a token protest, Bucky is already pouring him a fresh cup.

For a moment, it looks like Steve’s going to object after all, but then he thinks the better of it, snapping his mouth shut with an audible clack. “Thanks,” he says, giving Bucky a wry smile.

Bucky smirks. “Don’t mention it.” He nods towards the newspaper. “Anything happen that I should know about?”

“Oh, you know,” Steve sighs, rubbing his eyes, “the usual cheer. To be honest, I think you’re better off not knowing the details.” He stifles a huge yawn, and Bucky just about resists the urge to squee. He just wants to wrap Steve up and turn him into a BBB (Bucky Blanket Burrito; his specialty).

Instead, he just smiles fondly at him. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He’d love to stay and chat a bit longer, but he can feel Natasha’s eyes burning a hole in his back, and besides, the lunch rush is about to start so he should probably do some actual work at some point.

“Don’t forget the read the funny pages,” Bucky tells Steve, shooting him one last smile before reluctantly heading back to the bar.

When he gets there, Nat gives him on of her terrifying smirks. “You into DILFs now?” she asks, far too loudly.

“Oh – keep it _down_, Nat, will ya?” Bucky grumbles, rolling his eyes at her. “I was just… looking after our customers.”

“Sure you were,” Nat nods gravely. “Some better than others, but hey, I’m not judging.”

Bucky scoffs. “You are definitely judging.”

She just grins at him, suddenly bearing an uncanny resemblance to a great white shark.

\---

Steve leaves not long after, much to Bucky’s disappointment. Before he walks through the door, however, he turns and smiles back at Bucky. Bucky waves and calls out, “Bye, Izzy!” like an idiot, because apparently he left his chill at home this morning.

Nat will never let him live this down.

\---

Bucky kind of expects that to be the last he sees of the not-so-terrible twosome, so he’s very pleasantly surprised when the next morning, Steve and Izzy show up again.

The same thing happens as the day before. Izzy is screaming bloody murder when they enter the coffee shop, and Steve, looking just as harried and desperate and gorgeous as he did yesterday, cringes under the admonishing looks the other patrons of the shop send him before Izzy suddenly, quite abruptly, quietens down again.

Bucky can literally see Steve’s broad shoulders slump in relief, then rise again as he takes a deep breath and holds his for a moment. When he looks up and his eyes meet Bucky’s, Bucky experiences the same ‘zing’ of attraction he did before – only now, he just also really wants to talk to Steve again, see if he can make him laugh like he did yesterday. Bucky almost rolls his eyes at himself.

Steve makes a beeline for the bar, and Bucky spends a panicked moment trying to remember if he bothered to brush his hair this morning and if his apron has got any unsavory stains on it. He’s only got a minute to fret, though, because the next moment Steve is standing in front of him, in all his glory. If Bucky wondered whether maybe his brain had exaggerated how beautiful Steve was after yesterday’s encounter, it becomes instantly, abundantly clear that that was not the case.

“Hey,” Steve greets him.

“Steve, hi,” Bucky smiles. “Back again, huh?”

Steve gives him a sheepish look. “She wouldn’t stop crying again this morning, so I figured… If it worked yesterday, maybe it would work again today?”

“Looks like it did,” Bucky agrees, nodding towards the angelic bundle of human soundly asleep in the carrier again. Steve is wearing a white, cable knit sweater today that makes him look utterly soft and cuddleable (yes, that’s a word, don’t @ him) and Bucky itches to run his hands over it. Particularly in the pectoral area. 

Unaware of Bucky’s inner turmoil, Steve nods, lost in thought. “Yeah,” he muses. “I think the ambient noise is soothing to her? A bit like how you fall asleep in a car, I guess.”

Bucky hums. “That makes sense, yeah. Some people just don’t like it when it’s too silent.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Guess she takes after Sharon, then. That’s her mom,” he adds, a little redundantly.

Bucky feels another sting of something unpleasant at the mention of a mother, but he pushes the feeling away like he did before. He’s just flirting with a customer a little, what does it matter if the guy’s shacked up already? It’s not like Bucky wants to marry him himself or anything batshit crazy like that.

It’s _not_.

Steve and Bucky spend a few minutes talking about Izzy’s sleeping and feeding habits while Bucky prepares Steve’s order. Bucky isn’t excessively interested in those details, but he does very much enjoy watching Steve gush about his little girl so he keeps asking questions anyway. He’s so engrossed in their conversation that he doesn’t even notice the line forming behind Steve until Natasha, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere, as she frequently does, loudly clears her throat next to him.

“Can I help anyone?” she asks pointedly, making Steve startle and look around him guiltily.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry,” Steve says, grabbing his mug off the counter. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll just go sit over in that corner again.”

“You got it,” Bucky says, throwing him a two-fingered salute. “Shout if you need anything.”

He longingly watches Steve’s retreating back until Nat makes him yelp when she jabs him in the side again – in exactly the same spot as yesterday, of course.

\---

It becomes somewhat of a routine after that. Steve shows up with Izzy three days in a row, spends a little time chatting to Bucky, then sits himself down in a chair near the window. He reads the paper and sips his coffee while Izzy sleeps on soundly, and Bucky surreptitiously watches them from across the room, occasionally topping up Steve’s mug.

Inevitably, Steve and Izzy’s morning visit becomes the highlight of Bucky’s day. It shouldn’t, but it does. Natasha, of course, notices. She teases him about it relentlessly until on Thursday afternoon, after Bucky’s waved goodbye to his favorite duo and he’s moped himself through the rest of his morning shift, she takes him aside when he’s about to go on his break.

She stands in front of him, hands on hips, looking far more intimidating than her short, slender frame should allow.

“James,” she starts ominously, which, uh oh. It’s never a good sign when she uses his given name. “I know you’re going to tell me to mind my own business, but I’m just looking out for you, okay?”

She waits for Bucky give a sullen nod before she goes on.

“I know Steve’s cute and that you’d be all over that if he didn’t already have a family, but the fact is, he _does_. And you can deny it all you want, but I can see you falling for him a little bit more every day.” Her expression softens a little as she regards him with her keen, green eyes.

She sighs. “Look, I just don’t want to see you get hurt, alright? I’m not saying you can’t talk to him ever again, but maybe try and take the pining down _just_ a notch,” she says, making a gesture with her thumb and forefinger. “Take a little more emotional distance from the whole thing. Getting attached to someone who’s already attached to someone else rarely ends well. Plus,” she finishes, “there’s a child involved.”

That makes Bucky bristle. “Oh, come on, Nat,” he protests, “aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself now? I’ve known the guy for less than a week, for cryin’ out loud. It’s not like I’m in danger of getting my heart broken here.”

Natasha regards him for a moment, the expression on her symmetrical features unreadable. “You sure about that?” she asks sharply. “I see how you look at him. You don’t look at people like that, James. Ever.”

“Oh, and how exactly do I look at him?” Bucky demands, exasperated. “He’s hot as fuck, Nat, of course I’m gonna make eyes at him. You’re acting like you’ve never seen me flirt before.”

“Oh, I know you’re a huge flirt,” Natasha huffs impatiently, “but that’s exactly what I’m saying. You don’t look like you want to ravish him –” Bucky gives her an incredulous look and she pauses for a moment, tilting her head a little. “Well, you look like that, too,” she concedes, “but you _also _look at him like you want offer to carry his groceries and help him with night feeds and just generally do anything to make his life a little easier.” She pauses for dramatic effect, giving him a meaningful look. “And that’s not your usual style, now is it, James?”

For a moment, Bucky is actually at a loss for words, because, fuck. Natasha’s right. If he’s being honest with himself, he really does want to do all those things for Steve. Bucky’s not a player, exactly, but he does enjoy being single, meaning he has the occasional (okay, maybe a bit more than occasional) casual hookup. But even though there’s no way in hell he would say no to a casual hook up with Steve – if he hadn’t already been taken, that is – he also wants _more_. So much more.

He wants them to go on walks in the park and hold hands even when they’re trying to balance a baby and two coffees between them and it’s highly inconvenient to do so. He wants to cook Steve and Izzy dinner and make sure they eat their veggies so he stays strong and healthy. He wants to meet Steve’s mom and thank her for raising such an upstanding, pure-hearted son. And that’s after having known Steve for four days and talked to him for a grand total of maybe half an hour, tops.

So basically, he’s fucked, isn’t he?

“Nat,” he whines, pleading, although he’s not quite sure what he’s trying to accomplish. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Natasha doesn’t budge – of course she doesn’t. She just keep giving him this _look_, and as always, Bucky eventually crumbles under it.

“Fine,” he says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “_Maybe _you have a point. I solemnly swear to try and keep a suitable distance between me and Steve. Happy now?”

“I just want _you_ to be happy, Bucky,” Nat replies, her voice almost soft. “That’s all.”

It’s quite out of character for her, which is how Bucky knows she means it.

“I know, I know,” Bucky sighs. “Thanks, buttface.” He would go in for a hug, but Nat would just punch him in the kidneys if he tried, so he settles for giving her wistful smile.

Man, life sucks sometimes.

\---

When Friday morning comes around, Bucky really intends to keep his promise and maintain a suitable, professional distance when he talks to Steve.

But of course, Steve – stupid, sincere, beautiful Steve – ruins his resolve the minute he opens his mouth. He comes in dressed in old, faded jeans and a matching, long-sleeved shirt under his coat, both of which are covered in paint splatter. When Bucky gives him a slow once-over, head to toe and back again, and then raises an eyebrow at him in question, Steve blushes adorably and explains,

“I’m an artist.” He winces and adds, “A struggling one, but you know. I get by. Mostly.”

“You’re an artist?” Bucky repeats. “As in, you make art? Paintings and shit? And _stuff_,” he hastens to correct himself, with an apologetic look at Izzy.

Steve chuckles. “Yeah. I do some graphic work too, but mostly I paint.”

“That’s amazing, Steve.” Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know much about art, or maybe Bucky is just a little in awe of everything about Steve, but he’s genuinely impressed. “You'll have to show me some of your work someday.”

The minute he’s said it, he wants to hit himself over the head just like his grandma used to do when he when he was little. He can hear Nat’s voice in his head, as clearly as if she’s standing right next to him. _Making plans for the future now, James?_ _That’s not exactly keeping a professional distance, now is it?_

Bucky fights the urge to hide his face in his hands and groan. Well. Guess he’ll just have to try again tomorrow.

For some reason, Steve picks a seat around the corner today, which makes Bucky unreasonably sad because he can’t see him there from his spot at the counter. He tries to tell himself it’s for the best and he shouldn’t spend all morning ogling a customer anyway, let alone a taken man. But if he’s pouting a little as he pours a little heart into someone’s latte, well, he can’t exactly be blamed, can he?

Bucky is just in the middle of helping Natasha refresh the coffee beans when Steve and Izzy suddenly appear at the counter again. He clears his throat to get their attention, and Bucky startles a little.

“Oh hey, Steve,” Bucky says, surprised, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “How can I help you?”

“I, uh,” Steve starts, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I made you something.” He thrusts out his right hand, in which he is clutching a folded napkin. “You said you wanted to see something by me, so I thought, um…” He trails off, the tips of his ears turning red.

Intrigued, Bucky puts down the bag of coffee beans and gingerly takes the napkin from Steve’s outstretched hand. When he unfolds it, he lets out a soft gasp of surprise.

It’s a sketch of Bucky leaning on the counter, complete with a pen stuck in his hair, a full sleeve of tattoos covering his left arm, and a blinding smile on his face. It’s incredible, so vivid and expressive, even in black and white, and Bucky is stunned. He’s never had anyone draw him before, let alone like _this_.

“Steve…” Bucky breathes. “Did you do this just now?” He lifts his eyes from the paper to meet Steve’s again, noticing how the blush on the other man’s cheeks deepens.

If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that this was Steve’s way of flirting with him. Drawing a portrait of someone, from memory? Not something Bucky would’ve thought customers usually did for their local baristas. But unfortunately, Bucky does know better. Steve is just _that _sweet.

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah, I mean, it’s just a sketch, though. It’s nothing special, but um…”

“Nothing special?” Bucky repeats incredulously. “Steve, this is _incredible_. I love it.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, smiling timidly. “I’m glad. You can, uh, keep it. If you like.”

“I –” Bucky is still a little lost for words. “That’s – wow. Thanks, Steve. You’re very talented.”

“Yeah, well. Not like I manage to sell a whole lot,” Steve huffs. For a moment, he looks uncharacteristically somber, but seems to catch himself quickly. “Anyway,” he says, “We should head off. But I’ll – I’ll see you soon?”

“Definitely,” Bucky beams.

Izzy’s awake now, for a change, contentedly thumping her little fists on Steve’s pecs as she blows little spit bubbles. She really is pretty cute, if Bucky’s being honest.

“Bye, Izzy,” he coos at her, waggling his fingers, making her chirp in glee. “I hope those little teeth of yours won’t keep you and daddy awake too much tonight.”

When he looks back up at Steve with a smile, he finds him looking back at him with a stricken expression on his handsome face.

“Oh,” Steve says, but anything else he might have said is cut off by the arrival of a whole horde of teenagers from the college a few blocks away. They’re loud and they crowd the counter immediately, effectively pushing Steve out of the way, and Steve and Bucky just about manage a wave and a _see you_ before all Bucky’s attention is required to deal with the exceptionally complicated orders from a bunch of college students.

Bucky sighs internally. He kind of misses Steve already. At least he'll be back tomorrow.

\---

Naturally, the next morning goes a little differently than Bucky expects.

He anxiously watches the door all morning, but Steve doesn’t arrive at his usual time, or at any other point during his morning shift. It’s only after his midday break that Bucky finally does hear the dulcet tones of Izzy screaming her little head off, and he looks up in relief, only to have his stomach drop down into his boots when he lays eyes on the duo entering the shop.

Because it’s Izzy alright, but the person carrying her is not Steve.

Instead, a beautiful blonde woman walks in, carrying Izzy in the now-familiar papoose. She looks around for a moment, mentally cataloging the interior of the shop, before suddenly looking right at Bucky.

Bucky swallows hard, trying his best to summon up a smile as she purposefully walks over to him. The woman is rocking Izzy gently, but already, the little girl is settling down, soothed by the familiar sounds of the shop. Her mother does not look as surprised at that as she might have been, which would make sense seeing as Steve probably filled her in. Because, you know, she’s his girlfriend. 

“Hi,” Bucky greets, hoping his smile doesn’t look too strained. “You must be Sharon.”

“And you must be Bucky,” the blonde replies, smiling back, and despite the fact that his name is on his tag, something about the way she says it makes Bucky think it’s because Steve’s talked about him. It makes a warm feeling bloom in his belly, which is abruptly quelled when he realizes that Sharon could well be here to warn him off her man.

She doesn’t look hostile, though. On the contrary, the expression on her pretty face is friendly and open. Bucky hates to admit it, but Sharon and Steve really do make an exceptionally good-looking couple. A golden pair.

“The one and only,” Bucky replies belatedly, doing a half-hearted little curtsy.

Sharon gives him a once over that kind of feels like an airport scan. “Figures,” she says cryptically, but doesn’t elaborate, so Bucky lets it go for the time being.

“How’s little Izzy doing this morning?” Bucky asks, reaching out his left hand to stroke the soft tufts of blonde hair on the top of Izzy’s little head. Izzy chatters excitedly, seemingly fascinated by the colors and shapes on Bucky’s arm. It’s only once he’s already done it that he realizes he should’ve probably asked Sharon for permission first before he just touched her child, but fortunately, she doesn’t seem too bothered.

Sharon makes a ‘so so’ gesture with her hand in reply to his question. “Still not sleeping through the night, but at least we’ve found a calm space for her now. She really seems to like this place.”

She smiles down at Izzy, who flaps her little arms excitedly in Bucky’s direction. Bucky holds out a finger which she gleefully grabs onto.

“She really seems to like you,” Sharon goes on, giving Bucky a shrewd look before casually adding, “and so does Steve.”

Well, shit.

“Um,” Bucky chokes. “I mean, yeah, we get along. We’ve become sort of uh, buddies, I’d say.”

A slow smirk spreads over Sharon’s face. “Buddies, huh?”

Bucky can feel himself starting to blush, and damn it, that’s really very unfortunate.

“Yeah!” he says, too brightly, before abruptly changing the subject. “Can I get you anything to drink, maybe?”

“Sure,” Sharon shrugs, still giving him a _look_. “I’ll have a decaf mocha, please.”

“One decaf mocha, coming right up,” Bucky nods, turning quickly to hide his blush.

Bucky really can’t get a read on Sharon, and it’s throwing him for a loop. She seems friendly, but at the same time, she’s clearly hinting at the fact that she knows Bucky’s interested in Steve as more than just a buddy. His mind races as he whips up the mocha, trying to make sense of the situation, but to his frustration, he comes up empty.

When Bucky turns around again and presents her with her beverage, Sharon is just sliding a piece of paper over the counter towards him.

“What’s this?” Bucky asks, picking up the folded note and opening it. On it, there’s a phone number – no name, just digits.

Bucky blinks. She gave him her phone number? Okay, now he’s officially confused.

“Oh,” he says, bewildered. “I – uh… I mean, wow. I’m flattered, really, but um… aren’t you and uh – I mean. Also, I’m kind of, uh. Well, gay,” he finishes lamely.

Sharon snorts as if to say, _no shit_. “Well,” she drawls, “that’s fortunate then, because so’s the guy who’s number this is.”

“The- the guy..?”

“My cousin, Steve.”

“Your cousin… Steve?”

“That’s what I said, yes,” Sharon repeats slowly, as if she’s talking to a small child.

“Your _cousin _Steve,” Bucky exclaims then, wide eyed, comprehension dawning. “So not… not your _partner_ Steve?”

“My cousin, as in family relation, Steve, yes. My gay, single cousin Steve who looks after my daughter Izzy on weekday mornings because I am a single mother with a demanding job. That Steve.”

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathes, then claps a hand over his mouth when he realizes he swore in front of an infant.

Sharon just fondly rolls her eyes at him. “She’s too little to understand, Bucky. Relax.”

Bucky removes his hand and lets out a slow breath. “Well, damn,” he says, he says emphatically.

“Uh huh,” Sharon concurs. “Steve is also a bit of an idiot, clearly, and extremely shy. So when I realized, after having listened to him go on and on about the cute barista at this coffee shop for four evenings straight, that he had neglected to mention he was in fact not the father of the baby he’d brought in with him to said coffee shop, I decided it was time to take things into my own, infinitely more capable hands.”

Somehow, Bucky doesn’t have a shred of doubt in her capabilities.

“Sounds… reasonable,” Bucky nods, pursing his lips.

Sharon grins. “I thought so.” She taps her fingers on the piece of paper that Bucky dropped on the counter in his shock. “So if you could just give him a call to ask him out and put him out of his misery, that’d be great.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky says, saluting her. She inspires that in him.

She winks. “Good man.”

And with that, Sharon picks up her coffee, makes Izzy wave goodbye to Bucky, and leaves the way she came.

\---

“Hello, this is Steve.”

“Steve, hi! It’s, um. It’s me, Bucky?”

There’s a brief silence on the other end of the line – and then the dialing tone.

Bucky brings the phone in front of his face and stares at it. Steve- hung up on him? That’s… not good.

A moment later, however, the phone starts to ring. Bucky startles, quickly bringing it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Steve says, sounding pained. “I just – I panicked.”

“And you hung up on me?” Bucky asks, laugh in his voice.

_“…_Yes.” Steve chuckles. “I said I’m sorry, alright? I just… It was kind of a surprise, seeing as I didn’t think you had my number. This was Sharon’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“’Fraid so,” Bucky confirms. “She is one intimidating lady.”

Steve laughs out loud this time. “She really is. Intimidating runs in the family.” He pauses. “Well, on the female side, at least. I’m slightly scared think how little Izzy is going to turn out_._”

“Izzy, who is not your daughter,” Bucky says, deciding to bite the bullet.

“Um, yes. Izzy who is not my daughter.”

“Which you failed to mention.”

“Which I – yes.”

Bucky laughs. “Dammit, Steve. You had me all in a muddle, you know that?”

“I did?” Steve asks.

“’Course you did.” Bucky only hesitates for a moment, before adding, “Thought I was flirting with a taken man.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line. “You were… flirting?”

“Only from about the moment I met you, thanks for noticing.”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not very good at telling when someone’s flirting with me, I’m afraid. I tend to think people are just being nice.”

“Trust me, Steve,” Bucky says, “I think in your case, it’s safe to assume people are flirting with you nine outta ten times.” 

Steve sounds embarrassed when he mumbles, “I don’t know about that,” so Bucky allows, “Well, okay, I don’t know about everybody else, but I certainly was.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, sounding tentatively hopeful. “Well, uh. I was too. Flirting with you, I mean. It’s okay if you didn’t notice, I’m not very good at that either, but, ah. Yeah. I don’t usually draw portraits of people I don’t know that well.”

“That so?” Bucky asks, amused.

“I may have spent quite a lot of time looking at you over the edge of my newspaper. You’re very… aesthetically pleasing. I mean, you look very good. Very, um. Handsome.” Steve makes a choked little sound, then whispers, “Oh, god.” 

Bucky can’t help but break out into a grin, utterly charmed by Steve’s clumsy attempts at flirting.

“Why, thank you, Steve,” he grins. “You’re really fucking hot yourself, too.”

Steve barks out a laugh, sounding relieved. “So does that mean that maybe you’d want to grab a coffee with me sometime?”

No sooner have the words left his mouth, or there’s a sound of a dull slap on the other end of the line, which appears to be Steve hitting himself on the forehead. “Oh my god, I really just asked a barista out for a coffee, didn’t I?”

Bucky laughs silently. “You really did, pal.”

“Think you can ever forgive me?”

Bucky bites his lip for a moment to keep himself from blurting out something inappropriate like _please marry me._

“I think I can probably find it in me, yes.”

“Good,” Steve says. There’s a pause, and then, voice all innocent-like, he adds, “‘and then maybe soon, you can find yourself in me?”

Bucky very nearly swallows his tongue.

\---

They end up going to a local brewery for their first date, having established a shared love for craft beer. They laugh until their cheeks hurt, and it’s the best first date Bucky’s ever been on.

As he drops Steve off at home with a kiss that he means to be chaste but which takes no time at all to turn into Steve frantically trying to open the door to his flat without breaking away from Bucky’s lips before dragging him over the threshold and then through the hallway and kitchen, all the way to his bedroom, Bucky makes a mental note to send Sharon a thank you card. Or, you know, maybe a new car. Or an apartment. Yeah, a penthouse should cut it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come and shout with me about these two on [Tumblr](https://musette22.tumblr.com/)!


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